I speed up. Take the stairs three by fucking three.
She tips over, and I catch her around the waist.
We tumble into a heap on the floor. I’m breathing hard, but unharmed. Sima’s face, though, is a sheet. White with specks of red between her freckles.
I hate myself for putting them there, but I’d never go back. Not if it meant losing her.
“Sima.” I touch her cheek gently. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
Her eyelashes flutter briefly. “Petyr?”
“Yeah,” I croak. “It’s me.”
She blinks at me like she can’t believe it. Her hand reaches up, trembling, and lands on my cheek.
Then she breaks down sobbing.
I pull her into my arms and hold her through it. “Hush. It’s okay now. It’s over.”
“You’re real?” She starts touching me everywhere. “You’re not a dream?”
“I’m not a dream.” My lips quirk up. “Though I am flattered.”
A wet laugh breaks out of her. “You jerk.”
“It’s why you like me.”
“No.” She shakes her head softly, still smiling. “Not ‘like.’ I love you.”
Her words choke me. I’m flooded with a feeling I haven’t had much use for in my life: gratitude. Because Sima’s okay, alive and well and breathing, and I got to her in time to save her. To break her fall for her.
Before I can say it back, however, her breath catches.
“We need to go,” she blurts. “Nikolai’s men are going to be here at any moment. And Maksim?—”
“It’s fine.” I stroke her hair gently, careful not to touch the top of her head. Rage still boils inside me when I remember how her father was manhandling her moments ago. If I wasn’t such a good shot, I might have had a chance to show him what real cruelty looks like later. “Maksim is with us. He told me where to find you.”
Her eyes grow lucid again. “Really?”
“Really.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “He’s a good brother. You can be proud of him.”
“I am.” Her smile is wobbly, but real. “So, the war…?”
“It’s over.”
“Really?” Sima looks like she’s about to cry again, but for a wholly different reason. Happy tears for once. “You mean that?”
“I do.” I brush a stray lock out of her face. “No more bloodshed between our families. There’s been enough.”
We both glance at the bottom of the stairs. Nikolai’s corpse is lying there, in a pool of his own blood. Dead.
He’s the man I was at war with. He and Anatoli. Feliks found his death when he decided to take a shot at me. But Maksim—I’ve got no beef with him. Especially after the way he acted tonight.
He protected Sima. Put her first. As far as I’m concerned, that makes him trustworthy in my book.
Speaking of trust, we still need to get to the bottom of something else.
“How did Nikolai’s men find you?” I stroke circles into her back, hold her close. “Did they ambush you at the diner with Kira?”
